


Buddhists in Reindeer Pajamas

by ureshiiichigo



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Claudia is overenthusiastic, Fluff, Gen, No really I mean it about the fluff, Pete has no table manners, Steve is sneaky, also disturbing description of Pete's eating habits, warning for disturbing description of an artifact's effects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ureshiiichigo/pseuds/ureshiiichigo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone has stolen Claudia's eggnog. This is <em>serious</em>, guys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buddhists in Reindeer Pajamas

**Author's Note:**

> I've been taken over by the urge to write ridiculously domestic Warehouse 13 fluff. Someone please send help.
> 
> Beta'd by percygranger, who for some reason supposedly enjoys my crack!fic. ALL HAIL.
> 
> This is a repost because I made a dumb. Thanks to the guest who commented about the fact that the eggnog being alcoholic was problematic (poor Pete). D'oh!

"Alright, that's it!" Claudia shouted from the kitchen. Steve turned another page of the morning paper, watching Pete and Myka eating their breakfast at the table out of the corner of his eye.

"What's wrong?" Myka asked mildly, her knife and fork clinking faintly against her plate. Pete continued making chewing and slurping sounds as he shoveled scrambled eggs and orange juice into his maw. Steve was thankful for his many disgusting habits. Otherwise, there was a slim chance he'd actually find the man attractive. Well, if you discounted his juvenile sense of humor and obsession with women. Okay, it was pretty unlikely that he’d ever be attracted to Pete.

Pete’s muscles, on the other hand… Steve resolutely turned another page and did _not_ look at either Pete’s shoulders and forearms, or his disgusting open-mouth chewing.

Claudia stormed into the room, and Steve finally looked up from his newspaper. She was clutching a glass in her hand, faint traces of a thick off-white substance in the bottom. She shook it under Pete's nose. "Someone drank my eggnog!"

"Egg-og?" Pete managed around a mouthful of eggs. Steve thought he could see a bit falling out of the side. Classy. Myka not-so-subtly pushed her cloth napkin over to his side of the table.

"You guys!" Claudia whined. "I was saving this! Special!" She pointed to the side of the glass, which sported a yellow post-it note with "PROPERTY OF CLAUDIA. DO NOT DRINK ON PAIN OF CASTRATION!!!" written in thick block letters.

Myka frowned. "Really? Can’t we just buy more?"

Claudia's lower lip pushed out further and Steve laid the newspaper in his lap, no longer pretending to read. "No," Claudia said, "it's not something you _buy_. It's my super secret _recipe_ , you guys. It took me, like, four hours to make. Okay, twenty minutes, but still."

Steve snorted. "Seriously? Didn’t you just buy the grocery store eggnog and add nutmeg to it?"

"No!" Claudia eyed the empty glass. "That was last year. I swear I made it from scratch this time." She frowned. "But that’s not the point, anyway. Stop changing the subject, Jinksy!"

Pete chimed in, "Yeah, stop changing the subject!" before cramming a blueberry muffin in his mouth.

Steve rolled his eyes.

Artie chose that moment to walk into the kitchen. "What is this? Am I paying you to stand around and gossip like mother hens? No!" He reached over to the plate of pastries in the center of the table, making a play for a cinnamon roll, but Myka slapped his hand away.

"Are you even paying us?" Pete asked, finally swallowing. "Do we get an allowance? Because in that case I want to hire a chef. We should totally hire someone to make scones for us."

"Lena can make scones," Artie said, waving his hand about his head. "Not the point. We got a ping. I'm going to need you," he pointed at Claudia, "and you," at Steve, "to pack up and head to... Fargo."

"Nooo!" whined Claudia. "We haven't solved the mystery of the missing eggnog yet! This is far more vital than finding an _artifact_."

"It's an artifact that turns people inside-out," Artie added.

"Gross," said Myka, setting down her silverware with a vaguely disgusted look on her face. Pete just shoved another forkful into his mouth.

Steve crossed his arms against his chest. "So when do we leave?"

Artie looked over, as if seeing Steve for the first time this morning. "What are you wearing?"

Steve shrugged and wiggled his bare toes. "Pajamas."

"They're... covered in reindeer."

"I felt like getting into the holiday spirit."

"But you're Buddhist," Myka pointed out.

Steve raised an eyebrow at her. "And that prevents me from wearing seasonal pajamas because...?"

"I think they're cute," Claudia said. "Anyway, so not the point right now. The point is, _who drank my eggnog_?"

"Are you sure that was your glass?" Pete asked.

Claudia glared and poked a finger viciously at the post-it note. "Do you not see the PROPERTY OF CLAUDIA in all capitals?"

"I knew you were slow," Myka said, "but I didn’t realize you were illiterate, Pete."

"Hey!"

"Hello?" Artie asked. "Am I speaking to a brick wall? You have a case." He clapped his hands. "Go!"

Steve stood up and stretched. He was feeling slightly guilty about stealing Claudia's eggnog, now that he knew she’d made it from scratch. No wonder it didn’t taste as good as last year’s. "I'll get dressed."

As he wandered up the stairs, he could still hear his friends arguing. December was definitely the best time of year. And Claudia would forgive him for filching her eggnog when she saw the vintage transistor radio he'd bought her for Christmas. That is, if she even figured out it was him who’d stolen it. She was far more likely to blame Pete. Pete had a habit of late-night snacking.

Steve had grabbed it when he’d woken up at three in the morning and couldn’t get back to sleep. He would’ve eaten Pete’s 3am sandwich, but Pete had apparently already snagged it from the fridge.

Ten minutes later, Steve and Claudia were outside, minus the empty glass of eggnog and reindeer pajamas. "So, did you find the culprit?" he asked, grinning, as he got into the passenger seat of the Prius and buckled his seatbelt.

"No," Claudia said, slamming the driver-side door and jamming her finger viciously into the power button. She was dangerously on the verge of pouting. "Pete wouldn't fess, and Artie has an alibi." She narrowed her eyes. "You'll have to check and see if he was lying about being with Lena last night. She wasn't there to corroborate."

"Sure, after we get back." Steve smiled and reclined further in his seat. The car started chirping as Claudia put it into reverse. "So. A local case this time, huh?"

"Yeah, apparently there's been a rash of people just outside of Fargo with their skin removed. Did you ever watch that movie, by the way? There’s a pretty disturbing scene with a wood chipper. And by disturbing, I mean _a-MA-zing_. Anyway, the artifact. It’s definitely lethal, and it’s pretty bloody. We're not sure if it's a skinning device, or a turning-people-inside-out device, or some weird Hannibal Lecter thing... Hey, do you think it could have been Miss Frederick who stole my eggnog?"

Steve closed his eyes and let the calming sound of Claudia's voice wash over him.


End file.
